In an effort to, well, figure out a little more about living, I’m going to attempt to talk to more strangers. Well, I think I am. We’ll see. It’s pretty easy to feel the world is crashing down around you when the dimensions of said world is measured by the inches between your ears. I don’t know if there’s a good method for this kind of home renovation project, but it seems pertinent to at least be forced away from my more navel-gazey habits. If you have a better idea, let me know. Please. So, the general plan is to be out and about and talk to who I see and try to remember what they said. Did something good happen to them today? Something bad? Maybe the conversations won’t get that far, but the end goal is to generally remove the ingrained notion that I am the object that all history is revolving around. I mean, I know that to be true, that I’m not the hero of this whole thing. Most likely no one is, but I could be wrong. But I do think everyone is predisposed to feel that way about themselves, to feel that immediacy which calls us to think of everything that occurs as happening to/around/for/against ourselves. And I’m not sure I like feeling that way. So, we expand the playbill. That’s the rationale, at least.
Of course, it has occurred to me that the entire dance of attempting to strike up conversations with strangers to grow my sense of belonging in, and shrink my sense of belonging to is, in itself, slightly intrusive at best and grotesquely performative at worst, but y’know, who cares. At the end of the day, I’m just a thing among things.
jeez, louise 